


Sugar and Spice

by iamjasonssmirkingrevenge (mizzykitty)



Series: Chains 'verse [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Food Kink, Humiliation, M/M, Paddling, Pain Kink, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzykitty/pseuds/iamjasonssmirkingrevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason's baking skills leave something to be desired, and Damian decides to teach him a lesson about serving him substandard food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and Spice

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Sugar and Spice 蜜糖与香辛料](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648503) by [FIR_button](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FIR_button/pseuds/FIR_button)



> This is a little porny outtake from The Chains We Forge that didn't quite fit into the main storyline. It can be read as a PWP one-shot. There might be a reference here or there to the main storyline, but it's pretty minor.

Damian stared at the mess of brown, vaguely goopy _stuff_ in a Pyrex pie plate in the middle of the table. He stuck a spoon experimentally into it and met little resistance. He’d had apple pie before, courtesy of Alfred, and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t meant to have little to no texture.

“What the hell is this?” he asked. He lifted a spoonful of the stuff and upended it, allowing it to drop back into the pan with a plop.

“I _told_ you, I can’t bake!” Jason exploded with a frustrated wave at the failed pie. “What part of that didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you asked me what I wanted, and then agreed to make it for me,” Damian said coolly. “ _This_ is not what I wanted.”

Jason wilted slightly under the weight of his displeasure. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard,” he admitted. “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

Damian snorted. “Baking is just basic chemistry, Todd. Looking at this disaster, I’m forced to conclude that you aren’t a particularly skilled chemist, either. Father must have found you utterly useless as a partner - no wonder he prefers Drake to you,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “How does it feel to be outdone by Tim Drake and uneducated housewives the world over?” 

Jason flinched as a flush crept up his neck to stain his cheeks. 

Damian fought back a smirk. They both got off on a bit of humiliation, but it was a dangerous game. Most insults just rolled off of Jason, which meant that Damian had to dig deeper psychologically to get the desired reaction. The trick was to attack his ego without actually damaging his self-image. Unfortunately, Jason’s psyche was a minefield at the best of times, and things didn’t always go the way Damian planned. Then again, where’s the fun in playing with fire if there’s no danger of getting burned?

“Nonetheless, perhaps the error was mine in expecting so much out of you without providing any proper training,” Damian said. He pulled a garment out of his backpack and flung it at Jason. “Here, put this on.”

“What is it?” Jason asked, handling the bundle as though it were a stick of unstable dynamite.

“Your training gear,” Damian said. “Now shut up and put it on. I won’t tell you again.”

Jason unfurled the ball of cloth and grimaced in distaste when he realized what it was – a short, pink, frilly apron. For a moment, he looked ready to hurl it back in Damian’s face. Damian held his breath in anticipation. 

He’d first brought the idea up on an idle whim a few weeks back, but after Jason had effectively said no, he’d been able to think of little else. He wasn’t sure if it was his stubbornness, his fascination with wanting things he couldn’t have, or his sadistic streak, but whatever it was, when he’d seen that apron in a shop window a couple days ago, he’d been unable to resist buying it on the spot. Later, it had taken no more than a few well-timed complaints about the lack of food in Jason’s safe house to manipulate him into offering to make him something. All he’d had to do then was set Jason up to fail by assigning him a task that he had very little chance of successfully completing. Of course, Jason could’ve surprised him with his amazing, hither-to unknown baking skills, but then Damian would be eating pie now. Either way, it was win-win for him.

After another moment of silent contemplation, Jason slowly raised the apron to slip it over his head.

“Clothes off first,” Damian snapped. “Don’t test me – I know you’re not _that_ stupid, despite the evidence to the contrary.”

Jason threw him a venomous look, but Damian knew he was only annoyed because he’d been caught out. Jason stripped out of his clothes efficiently, making little effort to do it sensuously. A sadistic smirk twitched at the corners of Damian’s lips. Pet was rebellious today – that would make this all the more fun. Though he wouldn’t tolerate any actual disrespect, he liked it when Jason was stroppy, because it gave him an excuse to punish him. Damian’s fingers twitched in anticipation.

Jason slipped the apron on and tied it behind his waist. Then he crossed his arms and glared at Damian for all he was worth. “Happy?” he spat.

“Not yet,” Damian said. He reached into his backpack and withdrew his smartphone. “Put your hands down, I want a picture of this.”

Jason frowned, his mouth opening automatically in protest, but whatever objections he had remained unsaid. Slowly, he lowered his arms and shut his mouth with an audible snap.

“Good,” Damian murmured as he lined up the photo. The fake sound of a camera snap let them both know the picture had been successfully taken. He circled around the table and showed it to Jason. “See?”

Jason’s eye twitched at the picture, his face slowly turning a dark red. “Congratulations, I look ridiculous,” he growled. “Now delete it.”

Damian snorted. “Absolutely not. It’s mine to do with as I please, just as you are.”

“I know, but…” A genuine look of distress crossed Jason’s face. “Please, Damian?” 

“No, and your groveling, no matter how pathetic, isn’t going to change my mind.” Damian cupped his cheek briefly to take the sting out of his words. “You’ll just have to believe me when I say that I won’t share it with anyone. We’ll call it a trust exercise.”

Jason scowled at him, but the minor shift in tension across his shoulders let Damian know that he’d already acquiesced to the demand.

Damian smirked triumphantly. “Now, there’s still the matter of your failure,” he said, with a gesture at the pie. He picked up the spoon and poked at the pale chunks floating in a sea of oily brown liquid, partially covered in a burnt yet goopy yellow/black mess. The chunks were clearly apples, and the goopy mess was a mixture of burnt and undercooked pie dough. He suspected that Jason had used too few apples, way too much butter (hence the oil slick), and had either turned the oven up too high, or set it on broil, thus both over and undercooking the dish. He contemplated the mess for a moment before he came to a decision. The apples were probably fairly edible, and as long as Jason didn’t eat the uncooked pie dough or drink too much of the burnt butter slick, he probably wouldn’t get sick.

“Bend over, elbows on the table,” Damian instructed.

As soon as Jason complied with the request, Damian shoved the pie plate under his nose.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Damian pulled a large, rectangular wooden paddle out of his briefcase, which had been under the table next to his backpack. “So that you understand that you’re never to serve me swill like this again, you’re going to lick up this revolting mess while I beat the incompetence out of you with this.” He brandished the paddle with a flourish. The resulting look of shock-anticipation-dread on Jason’s face was absolutely priceless. “The punishment doesn’t stop until you’ve eaten every last one of these little chunks, so the longer it takes you to eat them, the worse it’ll be for you.”

Jason seemed to tear his eyes off the paddle with effort, but only so he could stare down at the failed pie, his face scrunching up in revulsion. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, this is disgusting!”

“There are children starving in the streets of Gotham who would be happy to have as much, Todd. You should know,” Damian said. 

Jason winced at the dig, his entire body flushing to match the apron.

Damian backed up to get an eyeful, and felt his dick stir at the sight. Jason was bent over the table in his little pink apron and nothing else, his ass in the air, just begging to be beaten and fucked. Damian was so turned on that he couldn’t resist snapping another quick pic with his phone…for posterity.

Jason groaned at the sound of the phone camera. “Seriously, this isn’t funny. You can hit me all you like, but I don’t wanna eat this, it’s gross!”

“Tt,” Damian grunted. “I don’t need your permission to punish you, Todd; I’ll do as I like. You, on the other hand, will do as I say or we’ll be testing the limits of even your freakish tolerance for pain.”

Jason made a desperate noise in the back of his throat. “Come on, Damian, please? I don’t even like apples!”

Rather than answering, Damian whacked him with the paddle, causing a resounding smack to reverberate through the apartment and instantly raising a huge, paddle-shaped welt on Jason’s ass. 

“Ow, fuck!” Jason swore loudly.

“I don’t hear eating,” Damian said as he laid into him again.

“Goddammit, Damian!!” Jason yelled in outrage.

But Damian just hit him again, harder as he noticed that Jason still wasn’t eating. Jason continued to swear loudly at him in alternately angry and pleading tones. He shook his head. Pet was _stubborn_ today. He hit him again, and when that failed to get the desired results, he did it some more. 

Just as Damian laid into him with a particularly vicious tenth stroke, Jason finally let out a little whine of surrender. “Jesus fuck, this is nasty,” he complained as he lowered his face hesitantly into the dish.

Damian circled around to watch him root around in the muck, bobbing for apple chunks with lips and tongue and teeth. He grunted, a surge of victory and dominance and sheer power crackling through him as Jason swallowed down one of the chunks with undisguised revulsion. He reached down to unzip his jeans so he could stroke himself while he watched.

“There’s a big one right there,” he said, pointing at one of the chunks, half hidden beneath a fold of dough. “It should be easy for you, since you’ve had so much experience digging bits of food out of the garbage like a diseased raccoon.”

Jason’s burning gaze locked on his as he slowly worked the apple out from under the dough with his tongue, grimacing faintly at the taste of the raw-burnt dough. Finally, he licked up the apple, chewed it, and swallowed it without a word of protest.

“Did you enjoy that, alley rat?” Damian asked as he raked his fingers through Jason’s hair.

Jason arched into his touch with a soft moan of yesss.

“Good thing for you there’s plenty more where that came from,” Damian said with a smirk. 

Jason let out a tortured groan that made Damian squeeze his dick hard to keep from becoming over-excited. 

“Eat up,” Damian said gruffly as he turned his attention back to Jason’s already bright red ass. He kicked Jason’s legs a bit further apart and forced him up onto his toes to get a better angle on the pale, untouched skin on the backs of his thighs. 

“Ah!” Jason cried out as Damian dealt him a sudden stinging smack to the sensitive skin there. Then he ducked his head and quickly ate another bite of pie. 

Damian meted out several more blows to the same area, settling into a methodical rhythm as he watched the intense cherry red blooming across Jason’s skin. With each impact of the burnished wood, the red swathe grew, slowly conquering the untouched areas around it until there wasn’t an inch of Jason’s ass and thighs that wasn’t completely inflamed and starting to purple with the first hints of bruising. 

“Almost done?” Damian asked with a twinge of concern. This was taking an inordinate amount of time, much more than he’d anticipated.

“A-almost,” Jason gasped.

For a moment, Damian considered backing off, but then he thought, what the hell. “Almost, but not quite,” he said coldly as he resumed paddling Jason’s swollen ass with renewed vigour and intensity. 

Jason choked out a pathetic whimper that ignited something deep within Damian that screamed _no mercy_. 

Jason began genuinely cringing from Damian with every strike, his cries of pain muffled as he concentrated in earnest on gulping down the rest of the pie as quickly as possible. 

“Eat faster, Jason,” Damian threatened, refusing to slacken his pace, hitting him harder and harder till his arm ached with the exertion.

“Stop, please, fuck!” Jason begged suddenly, his voice cracking in desperation. For a heart-stopping moment, Damian thought he’d pushed him too far, but then Jason started babbling, “I’m done, please stop, Jesus, Damian, please, fuck…”

Damian slowly lowered the paddle. He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face. He ran a hand over Jason’s over sensitized skin, luxuriating in the feel of the hot, sweaty, trembling body beneath his steady hand. 

“Fuck!” Jason hissed in pain, though he took care not to shrink from Damian’s touch no matter how much it hurt - a lesson he’d learned from past experience.

“Good boy,” Damian murmured as he moved around to inspect the contents of the plate. “Let’s see if you got it all.” He pulled the dish out from under Jason’s chin and poked at it with the spoon while Jason stared anxiously up at him, his entire face and even some of his hair covered in gooey sticky bits. Damian noted with dismay that Jason had inadvertently swallowed a good portion of the oil slick, but at least he’d managed to avoid eating any of the uncooked dough. “Looks like you ate it all. Very good, Jason.”

Jason let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

Damian stroked his sticky hair. “Would you like your reward now?” he asked, gesturing at his leaking cock. 

“God, yes,” Jason said immediately. He pushed off from the table and dropped to his knees in front of Damian. He closed his eyes and almost reverently took Damian’s cock in his mouth, letting out a deep groan of pleasure as he licked enthusiastically at the precum pearling at the tip.

“Does that taste good?” Damian asked. He reached down and smeared the goo around on Jason’s face with his thumb. The pleasant scent of cinnamon butter wafted up to envelope him.

“Mmm,” Jason agreed, humming around his cock.

Damian moaned softly, though he resisted the urge to thrust into that hot, wet perfection. Pet had earned his treat; he would let him enjoy it at his own pace. 

Damian watched in a sort of fascinated thrall as Jason greedily licked at his cock, his saliva mixing with precum and pie goo to coat both of them to a sticky shine. Jason swirled his tongue over the head of his cock and then tongued his slit, making Damian’s hand clench reflexively in his hair. 

“Get on it with it,” he grunted, because really, fair was fair, but enough was enough. 

Jason laughed softly, and then swallowed him to the hilt, his throat working rhythmically around Damian’s cock in a way that shouldn’t have been consciously possible. Damian bit the inside of his cheek as his hips stuttered, moving of their own accord now that he was so close to the edge. At the last moment, he pulled out of Jason’s mouth and with a soft grunt, came on his upturned face. Damian smiled lazily as he smeared his come all over Jason’s face with his fingers, mixing it in with the resident mess. 

“Perfection,” he said in a low growl as Jason gazed up at him in rapt adoration. “Are you ready to come, Pet?” He knelt down beside Jason and grasped his cock in his cum-slick hand.

“Fuck, yes!” Jason blurted, bucking into his hand reflexively. 

“How ready?” Damian pumped him roughly, well aware that the drying cum on his hands was a poor lubricant at best. If Jason needed some more time, perhaps he could-

“Now!” Jason gasped, fingers clutching urgently at Damian’s shoulders. “Please!” he added as an afterthought.

Damian contained a chuckle. “Come, then,” he said softly.

Jason threw his head back as a powerful orgasm rocked him, his whole body tensing, scarred skin sliding over smooth muscle as Damian milked him to completion.

“Holy shit,” Jason breathed, slumping against the table leg for support while he shivered through the aftershocks.

Damian trailed a finger down Jason’s sweaty chest, streaking cum in his wake. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

Jason laughed breathlessly and drew him into a long, lingering kiss. Damian tasted the sweetness of apples mixed with the slight bitterness of cum, and the overriding warmth of cinnamon. 

“Are you all right?” Damian asked when they finally parted.

“Won’t be sitting for a week, but yeah, I’m fine,” Jason said with a rakish grin. 

Damian bit his lip. “And the…other stuff?” he said, unsure how to describe the mental and emotional aspects of their play. 

When he thought back to what he’d actually planned for today – a little spanking and light cross-dressing – and compared it to the way he’d physically and verbally brutalized Jason, a wave of intense guilt washed over him. Humiliation scenes were heavy on power exchange, and as such, they tended to tap into his darker emotions, emotions that sometimes scared him with the depths of their depravity. 

There had been a moment when he’d sensed he was approaching Jason’s limits. He’d had a conscious thought to back off, but then he just…hadn’t. Not just that, but he’d felt the need to escalate, and then there had been that heart-stopping moment when he’d thought he’d pushed it too far. 

“It was fine.” Jason frowned at him in concern. “Are _you_ ok?”

Damian looked away, feeling more than a little foolish for allowing this to happen. For all his concerns about Jason’s limits, he’d completely forgotten about his own.

Jason promptly hauled him into his lap and hugged him to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

Damian buried his face in Jason’s shoulder to hide the shame heating his face. He couldn’t believe what an idiot he was being. 

“Tell me,” Jason insisted.

Damian hesitated, but then he remembered how much he hates it when Jason shuts him out. “How can you trust me when I can’t even trust myself?” he finally said.

Jason pulled back and forced him to look him in the eye. “You’re a good person, Damian. It’s not just an act, or a result of Bruce’s indoctrination, or even rigorous self-control – you just _are_. I trust you because I know you’d never really hurt me. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that before you’ll believe it, but I’m just going to keep saying it until you do.”

Jason’s fervent assertions made Damian’s chest ache with emotions that he knew he could never articulate, not without dying of embarrassment in the process. So he settled for nipping a dark red mark into Jason’s neck that should be visible even above the high collar of his Red Hood costume. “You’re filthy, Todd. You need a shower,” he informed him fiercely.

Jason chuckled into his ear. “Then let’s get showered.”


End file.
